


Shinrai

by peanutbutterpumpkincake



Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mizuki is an asshole, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterpumpkincake/pseuds/peanutbutterpumpkincake
Summary: "Shinrai," Kakashi read, letting his fingers trace over the characters etched into the hard metal handle of the kunai."Reliance, trust, confidence." Iruka ran a finger across his scar, hoping the dusky light would conceal the blush he felt blooming across his cheeks. "It seemed fitting, given everything that has happened."Kakashi let his palm close over the handle of the weapon. "Thank you, Iruka. This... this is an amazing gift."----------------------This is a story about putting yourself back together and moving forward.There is one scene in the second chapter that will discuss an act of sexual assault. It DOES NOT take place between Iruka and Kakashi. (I will provide huge warnings and the ability to skip right past it if you so choose!)After that one scene, everything about the assault will be implied.





	1. Bad Decision Town, Population: 1 Very Drunk Chūnin-Sensei

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Hi there! This is my first time writing a Kakairu fic. This is also the first time I've ever publicly shared a fanfic I wrote. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> In reference to the sexual assault tags:
> 
> There is one scene in the chapter after this one that will discuss an act of sexual assault. It DOES NOT take place between Iruka and Kakashi. (I will provide huge warnings and the ability to skip right past it if you so choose!)
> 
> After that one scene, everything about the assault will be implied.
> 
> There is also the chance that this will eventually get upgraded to an explicit rating, but I haven't decided if I'm going to include any consensual sex scenes between our two favorite boys yet. There will definitely be a happy ending and at least a few cute smooch moments, but I don't know if I will write anything in which they do the whole damn tango. It just might not fit the mood of the story? If it happens, it'll be towards the end of the story (long live slow burn romance!) and it will also be made 100% skippable!
> 
> This is unbeta'd; all mistakes are my own and I'm happy to correct them if you see anything glaringly bad!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

In some places, it is believed that only two things in life are certain:

  * Death
  * Taxes



But anyone who has ever been to any bar within 5 miles of a school on a Friday night knows without a doubt, that there is a third certainty:

  * Teachers, when given the opportunity, can and will drink like goddamn monsters



For the average teacher, being able to drink like the world is going to end is a skill learned during your first year, honed during your second year, and is so well perfected, it could almost count towards a professional development credit by the end of your third year.

For educators at Konoha’s elite Shinobi Academy, drinking went beyond “professional development skills” and dipped into “way of life,” and it was usually mastered by the end of the first term. Anyone who wasn’t able to keep up by the time the Fall report cards were sent out wasn’t going to be able to survive the first rounds of Shinobi parent/teacher conferences, no matter how highly ranked their nin-skills were or how many times they’d faced down death at the hands of a missing nin.

All of that paled in comparison to explaining to a Yamanaka why their precious daughter, Ino was flunking math _(she was caught three times trying to jutsu her way into the instructor’s head to steal the test answers)_ or trying to make an Akimichi understand that yes, it really was disruptive to have messenger birds constantly coming into the classroom to drop off snacks for Choji _(or that the birds were completely unnecessary in the first place, since Choji seemed to have a never ending supply of snacks on his person anyway)_.

And so, the teachers of the Shinobi Academy would meet up once a week to drink and gamble and blow off the kind of steam that can only be generated by the stress of letting a bunch of 5th graders run around a school yard with weaponry and practice tags. _(Honestly, it didn’t matter how blunt a kunai might seem or how low-grade you might think a practice paper bomb is. In the hands of an over excited 7 year old, either one was as dangerous as the mangekyou sharingan.)_

This week, the faculty were penned into their usual haunt, a small dive bar called Regguresu Āmuzu ( _The Legless Arms; so named by the owner, Ryu after his bottom half got blown to shit during his time as a member of the Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit)_.

Iruka should have known something was up when Minori had offered to buy his first three beers for him and Mizuki had picked up the next two and a round of shots. By the time Akemi brought over a bottle of sake “for the table,” it was too late.

Iruka was well on his way to Bad Decision Town, population: 1 very drunk chūnin-sensei, and it seemed his cohort was busy playing their favorite game:

Goad Iruka into doing something he’ll regret later.

“Saa, he’s too chickenshit,” Akemi, a taijutsu instructor, gestured towards Iruka with the sake bottle before pouring another round out. “I saw the sparring portion of his instructor’s entrance exam. He spent all his time playing around with traps and snares. He’d rather dance around his prey than go in for the kill.” The older teacher took a quick sip from, his focus locked onto Iruka. “What do you think, Minori?”

Minori, one of the older weapons instructors, leaned back against the booth seat. “I don’t know Akemi. I’ve heard stories about Iruka-bō before he settled down and became a “Respected Chūnin Instructor”! He was a slippery little kozakana when he was younger… but… then again… he is _all grown up_ now… Isn’t that right, Iruka-bō?”

Iruka let out a small snort and waved the man’s goading off, “If you’ve heard _all_ the stories about me, Minori-san, then surely, you should know that flirting my way into a free beer is hardly enough to frighten me.”

“Akemi’s right. He won’t do it,” Mizuki slid an arm around Iruka’s shoulder. “These days, he’d rather tease us with the promise of fun than follow through.”

Mizuki’s arm felt warm and heavy on Iruka’s shoulders and Iruka could feel his friend’s fingers drunkenly fiddling with a flap on one of his breast pockets as he spoke.

“You should know better than anyone that once I set out to do something, I always follow through,” Iruka tipped his head towards Mizuki. “And besides, I’ve managed to win better prizes off of more fearsome targets. Getting a free beer out of Ryu is child’s play in comparison to some of the stuff I’ve done.”

Minori tipped his head back in laughter, “Are the rumors true then? You really stole the Hound’s mask right off of his face? Big talk from a little fish! Biiiig talk.”

Iruka let his grin widen just a little. “ _Steal_ is such a harsh word, Minori-san. I like to think we traded.”

“Traded? What did you trade him his mask for?”

Iruka’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Nothing too important. I took his mask and left a kiss.”

That did it. Minori and Akemi both doubled over in laughter at the thought of tiny genin Iruka snatching the ANBU mask off of Konoha’s infamous Hound and still being bold enough to steal a kiss as well.

Mizuki just rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still shilling that story,” Mizuki sniffed. “It’s less impressive when you know the details. The mask was already off. You just snuck up behind him, threw a peck on his cheek, and snagged the mask from the ground. You didn’t even see his face. That’s hardly what I’d call outwitting the man.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Mizuki. Just because you don’t have a mask to steal, doesn’t mean I won’t kiss you as well,” Iruka winked.

This earned another roar of laughter from the older teachers and a small pinch to his side from his friend, whose arm was now around draped loosely his waist. _When had that happened?_

“Well, aren’t we a bold little flirt tonight? Show us how it’s done then, _Senpai_.” Mizuki gave him a little push out of their booth.

“Come on, Iruka-bō,” Minori leered. “I’ll make it interesting for you. If you bring back three free drinks, I’ll pay your tab for a month.”

“And if I fail?”

Akemi snorted. “If you fail, Ryu will throw you out on your ass and ban you for life. That seems like punishment enough.”

“Alright then,” Iruka said, standing. He sized up his mark from across the bar. Ryu was older, rough around the edges, known for having a serious temper and little patience for bullshit.

Iruka turned back to face the table.

“See? He won’t do it,” Mizuki said.

“Mmmn. You're right. Looking like this, I won’t. Give me a moment.” Iruka unzipped his vest and slung it onto the seat next to Mizuki and quickly followed it with his turtleneck, revealing a plain white short sleeved tee, cut just short enough to reveal a thin line of tan skin and the hint of a washboard stomach. He took another second to pull all of his knives out of their various hiding places. And finally, with a small flourish, mostly for the benefit of the table, he pulled the tie from his hair, letting it sweep down to his shoulders, softly framing the round, sweet features of his face.

“Oh ho ho!” Akemi pounded his fist into the table and wagged a finger at Iruka, “You should have put on that little strip show for Ryu! He’d already have given you half the bar by the time you’d gotten that last kunai out of your boot!”

“Ah, but then I’d have had to miss the looks on all your faces. Now, what do you want?” Iruka gathered up the empties from the table.

“Sake for me and shochu for Minori,” Akemi said.

“What about you, Mizuki?” Iruka reached over to take his empty glass. There was a small flush of pink rising in his friend’s cheeks and Iruka could feel Mizuki’s gaze rake over him.

“Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

“Tell me if you change your mind.” Iruka grabbed the last empty glass from the table and sauntered across the bar. The look on Mizuki’s face was nothing new, but Iruka knew better than to expect anything substantial from his childhood friend.

Their pattern was this:

Iruka would tell Mizuki how he felt. Mizuki would say he felt the same, but that he just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. They’d secretly hook up for a few weeks until Iruka got tired of hiding. He’d give Mizuki a choice: make it official or end it. And Mizuki would end it. Every single time.

Their emotional merry-go-round had been fun and dramatic and entertaining when they were teenagers, but after a while, Iruka had given up hope that it would ever change. The last time they’d been together, after it’d become clear that Mizuki wasn’t interested in anything more than a few secret hook ups, Iruka hadn’t even given him the ultimatum. He’d just ended it. He’d told Mizuki that he’d always love him, but that he couldn’t keep waiting for his friend to make up his mind. If Mizuki ever decided he was ready for an open and honest relationship, Iruka would give them another shot.

In response to that, Mizuki had started very publicly dating Tsubaki.

That’d been six months ago and Iruka had done his best to be happy for them and supportive of their relationship. Maybe it stung a bit ( _a lot_ ) that after so much time and energy, Mizuki had finally ( _quickly_ ) settled down with someone else. But, it’d freed up Iruka’s brain and heart to explore other ideas and people and it had been, on the whole a good thing.

And if Mizuki still tried to flirt a little bit when they were both a little too drunk, well… Iruka wasn’t above reminding him of what he’d lost out on.

“Ryyyyuuuuu,” Iruka called as he slid the empty glasses across the bar. “I need you.”

Ryu dropped four ceramic glasses on the bar with a quick succession of thunks and poured saki with one had as he cleared Iruka’s empties with the other. “Get in line, Iruka-sensei. Everyone needs me.”

“Yes, but you don’t owe everyone a favor.”

He barked out something between a groan and a laugh and slung a towel over his shoulder before leaning on the counter, nose to nose with Iruka. “I don’t remember owing anyone a favor.”

“No? What do you remember then?”

“A rascal of a genin almost setting fire to my bar in an attempt to get rid of a cat.”

“Ah, but I did get rid of the cat, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“And I did for free, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“And you can’t even see the scorch marks?”

“Now that I’ve hung tapestries over all the walls, I suppose I can’t.”

Iruka flicked a lock of hair over his shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially, “Sounds like you owe me a favor then, Ryu-san.”

“What are you angling for?”

“I just need you to pretend to flirt with me for a few more minutes and then to give me a few free drinks.”

“Your stupid friends put you up to this?”

“Ryu-san! They are my stupid _colleagues_! Show some respect!”

Ryu eyed him for a moment. “Fine. But then you never ask for anything again.”

“Deal,” Iruka said with a giggle.

Ryu affectionately tapped Iruka’s forehead with two fingers, “Give me the drinks order. And make sure they’re watching by the time I get back.”

Iruka rattled off the short list of drinks (adding an extra beer for Mizuki; there was no reason to let the chance for a free beer to pass by) and then sat back while Ryu scuttled away to attend to some other patrons.

He glanced across the room to his friends. Akemi and Minori were alternating between whispering and glancing up at him. Mizuki was just... staring at him.

Iruka waited for Akemi and Minori to look back up and then winked at the lot of them.

By the time Ryu came back, all three of his friends were leaned over the table, watching his every move.

Ryu slid the drinks towards Iruka and caught his wrist as he reached out to take them. Slowly, he raised the younger man’s wrist to his mouth and left a ghost of a kiss, sending chills through Iruka’s entire body.

“Careful, Ryu-san. You’re not encouraging me to hold up my end of the deal.”

“Eh. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Iruka blushed a little and took the drinks, “Thank, _Ryu._ I’ll keep that in mind.” And with that, he hurried back over to his friends.

“One for you, one for you, one for you,” Iruka flashed a cat like grin to Minori, “and the next three months of Minori’s bar budget for me.”

“You’re a devil, you know that, Iruka-bō?” Minori swiped his shochu and downed it in one glug.

“How about this? We forget the bar tab and you never, _ever_ use that horrific keigo ever again?”

“Fair trade!”

Iruka sipped his beer and quietly listened to Minori and Akemi move the conversation from school gossip to town gossip and back again. “This was one of the good nights,” he thought to himself. “Something to think back on when I’m senile and wonder if it was actually true.”

He glanced towards Mizuki, who’d also fallen quiet since Iruka’s victorious return. He’d barely touched his beer, picking at the label and absent mindedly running his thumb over the lip. “Hey. Mizuki-kun.”

“Don’t call me -kun.”

Iruka jostled his friend a little with his elbow in the too-close booth, “This beer Ryu-san gave me is too warm, even if it is free. I think I might leave it for the next person and head home.”

Mizuki slowly nodded, “I should head out as well. I’ll walk with you.”

Iruka pushed their barely touched beers towards their companions. “Don’t let these go to waste. I worked hard for them.” And then he and Mizuki wound their way out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kozakana: japanese for "small fish, fry"
> 
> keigo: another term for "honorific"


	2. Fault Lines, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, the only thing that Iruka could think was that it was his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting the next sections of this fic a few days early as a way to celebrate AO3’s incredible Hugo nomination. What better way to congratulate this fantastic community than to keep posting work as quickly as possible.  
> ———  
> TRIGGER WARNING: This is the chapter that will most graphically discuss sexual assault. I tried very hard to keep it from being unnecessarily graphic while still giving a clear image of what happened.
> 
> If you don’t want to read it, I’ll include a short and exceptionally vague summary of what happens in the notes of the next chapter, so feel free to skip right past this one!

The next morning, the only thing that Iruka could think was that it was his fault.

He knew that no meant no _~~then why didn’t you say it~~_  and he was perfectly capable of advocating for himself when propositioned _~~being shoved into a wall hardly constitutes being asked~~_ and besides, he and Mizuki had that on again/off again thing ~~_which you specifically told him was over_~~ and besides, he’d been flirty as they’d walked ~~_that isn’t the same as consent_.~~Plus, Mizuki had said that he wanted Iruka _~~no, he said that if you were willing to give it up to an old bartender for free drinks like a cheap whore, then you should still be willing to give it up to someone you said you loved.~~_

He rolled over in bed and looked at his hand, a shallow scrape running across three of his knuckles from when Mizuki pushed him down onto his knees.

When they’d been together, they’d fooled around in the occasional out-of-sight alley. It’d always been secretive and little bit wrong, but it’d also been fun. It was never... like last night. Iruka was vaguely aware that they’d probably even fooled around in _that_ alley before, given their proximity to the bar.

Plus, they didn’t even really have sex last night. It was just ~~_you choking on Mizuki’s dick while he held your mouth open and called you a whore_~~  a little back alley fooling around. No big deal. Who hasn’t occasionally given a blowjob in a less than desirable location?

Even as the rationalization materialized in his mind, Iruka felt his whole body reject it.

Why was this time so different?

_~~This time you didn’t say yes.~~_

“But I also didn’t say no.”

His voice was small and muffled as he said the words out loud. 

Iruka pressed his scraped knuckles into his eyes and curled his knees into his chest and tried to go back to sleep.


	3. Fault Lines, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside Iruka’s window, a figure crouched in a tree shifted ever so slightly from his perch, startling a nearby squirrel. “Damn knees,” the lean silver haired nin cursed under his breath and shifted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last chapter, here’s what you need to know to continue on with the story:
> 
> Iruka was assaulted in an alleyway by Mizuki on their way home from the bar and he’s experiencing a lot of guilt about it.

Outside Iruka’s window, a figure crouched in a tree shifted ever so slightly from his perch, startling a nearby squirrel. “Damn knees,” the lean, silver haired nin cursed under his breath and shifted again.

Even a year ago, sitting on a branch without moving for 12+ hours would have been as easy as breathing. But now, his 26 year old knees were beginning to betray him with twinges of strain and stiffness.

 _“I should go home,_ ” he thought.

Curiosity wasn’t a good enough reason to be camped out  ~~_stalking_ ~~ monitoring Iruka.

It’d been a solid 12 hours since Kakashi followed him home. If he wasn’t out and about by now, he probably wasn’t going to surface any time soon.

Before last night, Mizuki was already on Kakashi’s shit list. That dickhead had been not-so-subtly sneaking out of the village to meet with Orochimaru’s henchmen for months.

But after what he’d witnessed in the alley last night… Something heavy welled up inside Kakashi’s chest.

“ _Witnessed,”_ a traitorous voice ~~_that definitely did not sound like Obito_~~  in the back of his head hissed.

“There was nothing I could have done. I can’t get involved unless directly ordered while I’m on a mission,” he thought.

 _Bullshit._ his inner voice hissed back. _Those who abandon their friends…._

Kakashi grunted in frustration at Obito’s words, forever wedged in his mind.

Scum.

An experienced jonin, Kakashi was close to finishing his thousandth mission and... he had never seen anything like what he saw last night. The brutality of sexual violence wasn’t something new to him. Given how young he was when he started as a shinobi, he’d been incredibly fortunate to never experience it himself, but he’d heard horror stories from others and, on more than one occasion, he’d seen the after effects in the victims he’d rescued.

But last night was a different thing entirely. How quickly the otherwise intimate and friendly evening had shifted. The relative quiet that surrounded the entire incident. The way Mizuki acted like nothing had happened afterwards, stopping to chat with Kurenai and Asuma as they crossed paths on his way home, not even four blocks from where he’d left Iruka sitting silently in an alleyway. The unnaturally neutral look on Iruka’s normally animated face.

The heavy feeling dropped from his chest to his stomach as his sharingan  ~~ _not so_~~ helpfully supplied the image of Iruka it had recorded last night.

 _Intimate Partner Violence._ The words echoed in the back of his mind from some training manual he’d read years ago. All of these years spent hardening himself on the battlefield and then last night, he’d seen Iruka in trouble and he’d flinched.

Why had he flinched?

_Friend Killer Kakashi strikes again._

“I’m not that person anymore.” Kakashi ran a gloved hand through his hair and tried to force a small surge of memories back into his brain’s lock box. This was getting ridiculous.

He was arguing with himself and losing.

His conscience  ~~ _Obito_~~ hmm’d. _If you’re not the friend killer anymore, then what will you do to fix this?_

“Good question,” he murmured. And with a few quick hand movements, he vanished.


	4. Soup, Salad, and Paperbombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka just wants to be left alone.
> 
> Kakashi needs to learn how to read a room.

Sometime around 6PM, Iruka blinked his eyes awake. His head was on fire, his whole body felt flushed and sweaty and disgusting, and he was so dehydrated that he could feel a deep crack forming on his lower lip. 

And something very loud was banging on his door.

“Go Away,” he yelled.

The banging paused for a moment. There was a small shifting noise. The sound of a paper bag crinkling? And then there were several quick taps on the window by his bed.

He scooched to the edge of the bed and wrangled one arm free from his blanket burrito prison to pull open the blinds.

_What in the world-_  

Hatake “legendary copy-nin, made jonin at the age of 10, public purveyor of smutty novels, local weirdo, and natural nemesis of the Mission Desk” Kakashi was smiling and waving at him through the window and holding a brown paper bag that appeared to be leaking very slightly. 

Iruka glared at him through the glass of the window.

“Can I help you?” 

He watched as Kakashi started animatedly talking and gesturing at the slightly leaking bag. 

“What? I can’t hear you through the glass.”

Kakashi pointed towards the front door of the apartment.

“Fine. One second.” Iruka reached up again and pulled the blinds shut with a sharp snap. He gathered his comforter around his shoulders and shuffled over to the front door. 

“What do you want Kakashi-san?” Iruka leaned against the door frame with a suspicious scowl. 

“Ah, Sensei! Thank goodness you’re home! I am so sorry to bother you! I accidentally purchased too much ramen and now it seems that one of the to-go bags has sprung a leak and I’m not sure I will be able to make it back to the Hatake compound without losing the whole batch. I was hoping you might be home and willing to share a bowl with me?” 

Iruka’s stomach growled before he could answer. 

“Wonderful! You’re hungry!” Kakashi kicked off his sandals, pushed his way past Iruka into the tiny apartment, and proceeded to scuttle around until he found some bowls and spoons and chopsticks. 

_Traitor,_ Iruka thought at his stomach. 

His stomach churned dismissively at his rebuke and the scent of salty broth wafting through the apartment was good enough to make them both drop the argument. 

He wandered over to the small, two person table where Kakashi was dishing out food and plopped down into a chair. The bowl that had materialized in front of him was gently steaming and filled to the brim with small mountains of noodles, thick slices of charred pork, and spicy golden miso broth. Iruka stared dumbly at the feast as the other man piled an obscene amount of crisp, wonderfully fresh looking vegetables and a perfectly soft boiled egg on top of the already crammed bowl.

“There we are, Iruka-sensei. I believe that is how Ichiraku normally serves it.” Kakashi pressed the palms of his hands together and muttered a quick, “Itadakimasu!” before reaching for his chopsticks.

Iruka dropped his gaze back to the bowl in front of him. The stomach that was traitorously begging for food less than a minute ago suddenly found itself hardened into a tight steel knot. The effort of leaving his bed and walking to the door and sitting here and talking was too much too quickly and if he didn’t do something quickly, he was going to end up a crumpled mess on the floor in front of Konoha’s most powerful jonin. Even lifting his head up to make eye contact felt like too much right now.

Head hung, still staring at his bowl, Iruka felt his brain struggle to parse out everything happening around him. “Kakashi-san, thank you, but-” 

“Almost forgot!” A gloved hand appeared over Iruka’s bowl and dropped two pieces of nori on top of the already heaping bowl. 

Iruka swung his head up at Kakashi and blinked. 

“Maa, I’m sorry. I should have asked first. Do you not like nori?”

Iruka blinked again.

Kakashi’s mask was down. 

“No, nori is fine. Kakashi-“ 

“Oh good. If you like it, you can have mine, too.” Iruka stared as Kakashi slid another two pieces onto the top of the towering bowl and then began to happily slurp noodles as though he hadn’t just let Iruka in on the best kept secret of Konoha.

The face in front of him was shockingly boyish. Any sense of mystery and foreboding was erased by fragile, almost elfin features. A slender nose and slight, pink mouth were framed by cheekbones that could probably cut glass and the hint of a mask shaped tan line. There was a small mole just below the corner of the man’s mouth, on the left side of his face.

“-not that I won’t eat fried food but it really isn’t my favorite. The oil flavor is too heavy for me. And that limits my options for takeout. Ramen isn’t usually my go-to either, but I haven’t been able to find a place that makes good eggplant miso since Old Man Fukumi’s place became a dango shop-” 

Iruka was only vaguely aware of what was being said to him. The other man's rapid fire words became just another ingredient in the soup of his existence. His whole body felt flush, too aware of how close the odd silver haired man was to him in the tiny kitchen, how vulnerable they both must be if Kakashi had his mask down. In a flash, everything around him became too small and too warm and too fast and too much. 

“...what the FUCK IS GOING ON?” he exploded, slamming a fist down on the table, making the bowls of ramen rattle, the tiny mountain of vegetables tumbling into the puddles of broth now spilled below. 

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi’s eyebrow was raised. 

Iruka gaped at the man for another moment and snapped his mouth shut. Something about this felt… off. Contrived. Like he was being set up. Cornered. “Why are you here, Kakashi-san?“

“Well, it’s like I told you, I accidentally ordered too much ramen, and then the bag began to leak so...” Kakashi trailed off.

Iruka was glaring kunai at him.

“You are one of the most capable ninja in our village. You are _not_ here because your dinner plans were foiled by leaking soup. _Why_ are you in my home?” Iruka felt his fingers twitch. Nothing about this made sense. His gaze flicked to a small lock box where he kept a stack of emergency paper bombs. _How quickly could he-_  

“Maa Sensei, if I knew you were the type to try to blow me up for bringing you soup, I would have come over a long time ago,” Kakashi winked and slid his mask back over his nose. “I guess that explains your friendship with Ryu, though.” 

_Oh. Ryu._

“...Ryu sent you over?” 

Kakashi waved a hand lazily, “More or less.” 

“I guess that’s… fine.” Iruka pushed out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. If Ryu had sent him over then there was _probably_ nothing to worry about… “You should ask before barging in on someone’s personal space though! It's incredibly rude, Kakashi-san!” 

“I'll keep that in mind. I'm  _so_  well known for my manners, after all." 

The two men sat in silence for a moment, evaluating. 

"Are you still going to try to blow me up?”

Iruka felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. “Depends on how dinner goes.”

—————-

After they’d finished and said their goodbyes, Kakashi once again found himself perched on the tree outside of the Sensei’s apartment.

That… had not been what he’d expected. Weren’t victims supposed to be traumatized or something?

_What? Did your little rescue operation not go according to plan?_ Kakashi’s ~~_definitely-not-obito_~~ inner voice sneered.

“Obviously, it will just take a little more time. Maybe he’s still processing the whole thing. Maybe he doesn’t trust me. I don’t know.”

_Maybe he just wants to be left alone. Maybe he doesn’t want it reported at all._  

Kakashi shook his head, “He doesn’t know what he wants.”

_Tell me, why does that sound familiar? You thinking you know how someone else wants something handled… Oh, that's right..._  

Kakashi felt his blood run cold as his sharingan pulled up the image of his fist surrounded by sparking light as it punched through Rin’s solar plexus.

  
_We all know how well situations like that turn out..._


	5. It’s only a B&E if you actually break something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi engages in some light breaking an entering, Pakkun gets to sleep on a couch, and no one will leave Iruka alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing for three months. Depression has a nasty habit of making me forget that doing creative stuff can make me feel better. But hey! That’s okay. I’ve got an update for you now and there’s a darn good chance you’ll get another one tomorrow or the next day because this is only about a quarter of what I’ve gotten done this weekend. I’m still puzzling through the rest of the edits.

Kakashi palmed a stainless steel pin from its hiding place and gently worked it into the lock that stood between him and the interior of Inoichi Yamanaka’s office. “Lock pick no jutsu,” he murmured as he felt the pins of the lock click and drop with a delicate, practiced flick of his wrist.

The silent room welcomed him with a rush of cool air. Inoichi would probably chew him out again for breaking in instead of waiting outside, but this way Kakashi could think in peace and quiet.

Sprawling out on the large couch inside the office, he spun Iruka’s situation through his mind once more, running a mental finger over every curve and edge, comparing what he’d witnessed last night to Iruka’s behavior today. Iruka seemed… fine. A bit hungover, but totally fine. As if nothing had happened. Which didn’t make any sense. Because something did happen. The whole village knew about Iruka’s on again/off again with that weasle Mizuki and even the most unobservant ninja noticed how much Mizuki’s new relationship hurt Iruka. So why did he seem-

“You know, most people just make an appointment when they want to speak with me,” Inoichi said as he entered the room. He was carrying some thick file folders, which he slid into an old metal filing cabinet next to his desk with a thunk.

“Appointments and I don’t see eye to eye, Inoichi. The path of life always seems to take me in the opposite direction.”

Inoichi hmm’d in response. “Well, what can I do for you?”

“I need to report an incident of intimate partner violence that I witnessed last night.”

The older man’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“Between Iruka and Mizuki.”

His eyebrows went up a little more.

By the time Kakashi finished relaying what he’d witnessed, Inoichi’s eyebrows had returned to their usual furrowed position.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll follow up with Iruka as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Inoichi-san.” Kakashi stood to leave.

“Kakashi?”

“Hm?”

“The next time you lock pick your way into my office without an appointment, I’ll report you to the Hokage, regardless of how urgent your report is.”

_________

Saturday night quickly became Sunday morning. With the... _events_ of Friday firmly behind him, Iruka settled in for a quiet day of grading papers.

Or at least, he tried to.

By the time lunch rolled around, Iruka had been visited by his landlord asking for help with a security seal, his neighbor who needed help retrieving her cat from a tree, and Choji’s mother, who just happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted to drop off some cookies and ask about her son’s progress.

And he hadn’t gotten to a single paper.

That was alright though. This afternoon would be better. Quieter. Peaceful. He’d tune his radio to his favorite classical music station and open a window and--

There was another knock. Iruka trudged over and swung the door open, “I really appreciate cookies Mrs. Akimichi, but I don’t need any other snac-- Oh.”

Mizuki leaned against the door frame and smirked as Iruka trailed off.

“Hey, Sensei. How’s your weekend going?”

Iruka flushed, heat running up his neck, tension suddenly strung out across his jaw and shoulders. “Mizuki. I’m surprised you’re here. I thought Sunday afternoons were reserved for dinner with your future in-laws.”

“Tsubaki’s out on a mission right now, so I’m off the hook.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“Dunno. I had a lot of fun hanging out this weekend. It was just like old times, you know? Wanted to see if you were interested in a little more catching up?”

“No. Sorry. I have papers to grade.”

“Iruka, let me in.” Mizuki’s eyes were soft, apologetic. “Please.”

Something twisted in Iruka’s chest. “I have work I need to do, Mizuki.”

“Look, I know I got a little rough on Friday, but I’m here now to fix it. I want to make it up to you.”

Iruka ran a thumb across one of the cuts on his knuckles, the slight sting tingling across his skin. “I said no.” His voice was soft.

“Why are you fighting this? You don’t say no to me, Iruka. You can’t.”

Iruka studied the ground as Mizuki spoke. He needed to scrub the floor in the hallway soon. It was getting scuffed.

“No one makes you feel the way I make you feel, right?” Mizuki’s voice was low. “That’s what you’ve always told me. If you can look me in the eye and say that someone else makes you feel the way I do, I’ll go and I won’t ever come back.”

Iruka could see Mizuki reaching a hand towards him, towards his face, knew that Mizuki was going to touch him again, even though he’d said no, even though-

“Oh! Good! You’re home!” A voice interrupted the spiral of Iruka’s thoughts. Kakashi was schlepping up the hallway, arms full of groceries, with a tiny, grouchy looking pug dog trailing behind him.

“Kakashi?” Truly, this was the worst Sunday, no, the worst _weekend_ of Iruka’s life.

“I know you made your feelings about people barging in on your personal space very clear last night but I was hoping to apologize with the offer of cooking you dinner either tonight or some other time, if you’ve already got other plans?” Kakashi eyed Mizuki from where he was still leaning against the door frame.

“I don’t have plans. I mean, I have papers to grade. But I was just planning on a quiet night in. Alone.” Iruka ignored the way Mizuki bristled at the rejection.

“Perfect! I can cook while you grade! No talking necessary, if you wish.” Kakashi’s smile was friendly, warm, easy going. No pressure. No expectations.

“You know, that actually sounds lovely. Thank you.” Iruka stepped aside as Kakashi and his pug scrambled in with their belongings. “Give Tsubaki my regards when she returns, Mizuki.”

“Sure--”

Iruka didn’t wait for him to finish saying his goodbyes before shutting the door in his face. He paused, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of Mizuki pacing for a moment in front of his door before finally departing down the hallway. He was gone.

Thank god.

Iruka straightened himself up and blinked his eyes back open.

The grumbly looking pug dog was sitting in the foyer, staring at him.

“Kakashi, your dog is staring at me.”

“Pakkun, don’t be a pest." 

The pug rolled his eyes. “I’m not bein’ a pest, boss. I’m sorry for staring at you, Sensei. I wanted to ask what your ‘dogs on the furniture’ rules were before presuming to make myself comfortable.”

“Oh, of course. Go for it. The couch is all yours.”

“Really?” Pakkun’s tail began to cautiously wag with excitement.

“Really. I don’t have any animal companions, so a little dog hair every now and then won’t ruin the furniture.”

“I don’t know how my boss got someone as wonderful as you to be his friend, but I’m not gonna look a gift couch in the mouth.” The little dog popped up onto the couch and padded around in a little circle on one of the cushions before plopping down and promptly falling asleep.

“Don’t mention it…” Iruka heard the tell-tale click-click-click of a burner being lit and made his way into the kitchen, where Kakashi was happily assembling the beginnings of a dashi broth, thick slices of eggplant already brushed with oil and ready to be grilled.

“You didn’t let that little freeloader up on the couch did you?” Kakashi set the broth to boil and turned to face Iruka. “You’ll never be rid of him if you did.”

“Oh, he doesn’t seem so bad. I appreciate him asking first. You might be able to learn a thing or two from him,” Iruka teased, settling back into the stack of papers waiting for him on the kitchen table.

“You’re probably right, but don’t tell him I said that.”

They both fell into their work, an easy quiet filling the apartment.

The yellow afternoon sun that spilled across the table became tinted pink as the kitchen slowly filled with the salty sweet scent of miso. By the time Iruka’s red pen work was completed, his apartment was full to the brim with good smells coming from the stove, warm evening light filtered in through the window, and soft music coming from the radio. Pakkun had even curled up at his feet at some point.

It’d been a long time since Iruka’s apartment had been filled with this much domesticity. His home was well furnished and comfortable. There were photos of loved ones on the walls and wonderful books on the shelves. But Iruka was still a single bachelor and wasn’t particularly attuned to what his mother used to call “domestic sensory delights.” The contents of his fridge usually consisted of old takeout. He typically didn’t take the extra step of adding citrus peels to his vinegar cleaning solutions. He didn’t even have a dish drying rack because he just used and washed the same single bowl and cup every day. And generally speaking, this worked for him. Sure, he always assumed he’d find someone to settle down with, but he was still young. What was that phrase he always heard Guy shouting across the town square? This was the springtime of his youth.

But sitting in the glow of the sunset, with all of this good quiet surrounding him, Iruka felt a tiny twinge at wanting to get to this part of his life just a little bit sooner.


	6. Kibble Vacuums & Messenger Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka makes a friend and gets a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the fluff while it lasts, friends.
> 
> Shit is gonna hit the fan in the chapter after this one.
> 
> Also thank you guys SO MUCH for the incredibly kind comments on the last chapter. I can't even begin to tell you how much that meant to me. I took a screen shot and sent to my husband with the message "LOOK PEOPLE LIKE IT!!??!!"
> 
> I hope you like this one just as much.

After dinner, Iruka watched as Kakashi washed up and packed away the leftovers into the fridge.

He was leaving.

Something tightened in the pit of Iruka’s stomach. It was still early in the evening. If Kakashi left now, there was a chance that Mizuki would turn up again. But asking him to stay longer… there would be too many questions. Besides, he was an adult. A chūnin ranked shinobi. He’d be ~~_a total doormat if Mizuki reappeared_ ~~ fine. Totally, absolutely fine.

_Deep breaths, Umino. You’ve got this._

Kakashi had gathered all of his things and was standing by the door ~~_that Mizuki had the spare key to_ ~~. “I’m sorry again for barging in on your personal space and time, Sensei.”

“All is forgiven, I promise,” Iruka said with a wave of his hand, praying Kakashi couldn’t sense the sudden bubble of anxiety that was growing in his gut. “Thank you for dinner, and thank you for taking the time to make it up to me.”

“Any time, Sensei. Pakkun! Are you ready to go?”

Pakkun was curled up under the table, snoring loudly.

Kakashi swore under his breath. “Lazy mutt. Once he’s asleep, it takes a whole ninja war to wake him. At this rate, I’ll have to carry him all the way back to the compound.”

Iruka watched as Kakashi began to shuffle the bags in his arms, trying to figure out how to balance them all under one arm, so that he could carry the ninken in the other.

An idea bubbled up in Iruka’s mind. “Actually, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, it would be great if I could borrow Pakkun. I'd love for my students to get some hands-on training with a ninken.”

“Are you sure? Not that I mind lending him out, but he is a terrible layabout mooch and I wouldn’t want my responsibility to become your burden.”

“It wouldn’t be a burden at all. You’d be doing me a huge favor. Really.”

“Well, suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if he never leaves.”

Iruka cracked a small smile. “Warning noted. Thank you again, Kakashi.”

Iruka watched as the man nodded and then body flickered out of sight.

“On my own but not alone,” Iruka mused. He carefully made his way around the apartment, checking that all of the doors and windows were locked and all of the barrier seals were set. Certain that his space was secured, he packed away the few remaining papers still sitting out and scooped the sleeping pug up off of the kitchen floor. The furball stirred and yawned a little as he did, squinting his sleep filled eyes.

“Did Kakashi leave, Iruka-sensei?”

“Yep. He enlisted you to assist in my classroom tomorrow.”

“Hmph. Typical boss, volunteering me without asking.”

“If it’s an imposition--”

“--No, no. Not at all,” the pug shifted in Iruka’s arms. “Just typical Kakashi.” Pakkun let out a big, sleepy huff, which was followed by a little burrowing motion and a few little snuffles. “Are you sure we haven’t met before, Iruka-Sensei?”

“I’m pretty sure I would have remembered meeting one of Kakashi’s ninken before today.”

“Hmph. You just smell familiar is all,” Pakkun’s eyes were blinking closed once more and before Iruka could answer, the dog was fast asleep.

\--------

 As the sun rose over Monday morning in the valley, setting the Land of Fire ablaze with its early morning rays, Kakashi once again found himself perched on a tree outside of Iruka’s window. He let out a low, quick whistle and in an instant, Pakkun appeared beside him.

“How is he?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He didn’t sleep so good last night, but he sprung out of bed as soon as his alarm went off at six this morning.”

Kakashi frowned. “Is he planning on going somewhere?”

“Said he had to be at the academy by 7:15AM.”

Pakkun watched as his boss blinked in confusion. “He’s…. planning on teaching?! For Kami’s sake...” Kakashi fiddled with his mask. Iruka had a reputation for being dedicated but… this was too much, wasn’t it? The man nearly had a panic attack when Kakashi left last night and now he was going to teach in the same building as his attacker?. “Pakkun, stick close to him today. Tell me if you see anything that raises your hackles.”

“You got it, boss.” In a flash, the ninken was gone and Kakashi slipped silently back into the haze of the morning light.

\-------

The morning’s lesson passed more slowly than normal. Iruka found that his mind kept wandering, almost expectantly, to the classroom door. It was as if he wanted Mizuki to come in, to confirm his worst fears, to validate the gnawing feeling that he was carrying with him this morning. But no validation came.

_This is stupid. You’re being paranoid and stupid. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Stop dwelling on it._

Thank goodness the ninken was there to keep the students occupied and on task. It seemed that the kids would do anything for the chance to rub his belly, a power Pakkun quickly learned to exploit.

Naruto, Iruka’s most rambunctious charge was especially enchanted by the ninken’s presence. By lunch, the small boy was bossing the dog around, tossing sticks for the pug to fetch as part of their “secret ninja training regimen,” promising that when he became hokage, he was going to have a whole pack and that he’d make Pakkun the head ninken of the whole pack because Pakkun would be such a strong and smart dog after training with the great Naruto Uzumaki!

Iruka watched from across the school yard, amused, as Kiba tried to help Naruto work out the best possible training technique for the dog. The two boys settled on a _very_ tough obstacle course that began with running up a tree backwards with your eyes closed and ended with doing figure eights around Ino and Sakura. After their third lap around the course, Naruto found himself on the receiving end of a solid wallop from Sakura and a not so empty threat that if they didn’t take their “dumbo circus monkey” training elsewhere, she’d slug him into next week.

The only student who didn’t seem interested in the dog at all was Sasuke, but that didn’t surprise Iruka anymore. The boy was laser focused on kunai practice these days and not much else.

What did surprise Iruka was how today, he felt he understood the boy’s knife throwing impulse. Methodically and meditatively slinging blade after blade into the target with a satisfying “clunk.” No one to bother you and no one to force a smile for. He felt a comforting pull to the quiet, isolated activity. Maybe the pre-genin was on to something.

It was something to ponder later. For now, their lunch period was over and Iruka just needed to make it another three hours before he could retreat to the relative safety of the missions desk.

\------

The missions desk passed as quietly as the school day had, with only a few raised eyebrows at his tiny companion, and soon, Iruka found himself curled up on his couch, grading papers and silently thanking whichever of the Gods that might be listening for keeping Mizuki out of sight and out of mind.

Kakashi had swung by a little earlier to check on him and to collect Pakkun, although, to Iruka’s secret relief, Pakkun had asked if he could stay another day with Iruka. Apparently, the pug had really gotten a kick out of assisting in the classroom and “wanted to see what other fun Iruka’s pups could drum up for him.”

Kakashi gave the dog a bored shrug and a simple, “Maa, do what you will,” before he flickered off into the night, leaving Iruka and Pakkun to the coziness of the couch and the simplicity of paper grading.

This pattern continued for nearly three weeks.

Each morning, Iruka and Pakkun headed off to school, where Iruka ~~_silently prayed they would not bump into Mizuki_ ~~taught and Pakkun romped with the kids, before heading off to file mission reports, and finally returning home to an exceptionally bored looking copy-nin, who didn’t really seem all that invested in reclaiming his summons in the first place and would disappear after he re-affirmed that Iruka really did want to keep Pakkun on as the world’s “least useful and most furry houseguest.” On the weekends, Pakkun put his nose to work and helped Iruka pick out the ripest fruits and the freshest fish at the supermarket and Iruka would haggle a little extra jerky out of the butcher so that Pakkun could have a treat.

By the end of the third week though, instead of Kakashi’s regular  “shrug and body flicker into the night,” Pakkun’s request to stay was met with a frown.

“You know, Pakkun, if you hated being my summons this much, you could have just said something.” Kakashi was crouched, eye level with the animal.

Pakkun made a little snort noise. “You know full well you’ve never treated me as nice as Iruka-sensei has. He gets me jerky from the butcher AND he lets me sleep on the couch. Why would I give that up?”

“Ah, well, if you want to stay with Iruka full time, it’s fine by me, you good for nothing kibble vacuum. It’s not like I’ve been your master for the last decade or anything. By all means, give that up for butcher’s scraps and couch cushions.”

Iruka felt his face flush a little at what seemed to be the beginning of an argument and he pinched two fingers against the scar on the bridge of his nose. A small voice in the back of his mind pointed out that he was using the dog for more than night time security and a good grocery shopping companion.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he was using the dog as an excuse to avoid other people.

“You’re all going out to the bar? Oh, that sounds fun. I wish I could, but I’ve got Pakkun with me. No dogs in the bar!”

“Anko’s birthday party? If I’d known earlier, I could have, but I’ve got Pakkun with me and I can’t just show up with an extra four legs.”

“Sparring this Sunday at the training fields? That’s the only day I can take Pakkun along with me to the butcher’s to get his favorite type of kibble. Maybe next time!”

The only human interaction that gave him any kind of security anymore was Kakashi’s nightly Pakkun check in. During the first week, Anko had appeared totally out of the blue with an extremely concerned look on her face and asked Iruka if he was feeling alright? And did he need to talk about anything?

Iruka begged her off, but the interaction left him with the suspicion that the infamous Konoha rumor mill might be busily churning out a new Iruka-and-Mizuki themed bit of gossip. This was one of the many reasons he’d been avoiding people of late. And Iruka suspected that Kakashi, having been the subject of enough wild rumors to fuel the town for a decade, was the only person left in the village who wouldn’t believe anything being said about him and Mizuki.

“If you really needed me back, you’d have summoned me already,” Pakkun’s fur was huffled up in annoyance.

Kakashi stood back up, hands on his hips. “That would be impolite to Iruka-sensei,” he sniffed.

Pakkun opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off with the appearance of a messenger bird.

Kakashi snagged the scroll it carried and unceremoniously unfurled it. “It’s about damn time, Inoichi,” he murmured. “Iruka, you and I are being summoned to the Hokage’s office, immediately.”

Iruka’s face scrunched up. “But why?”

The other man just shrugged and held up the scroll. Sure enough, it was a message calling the pair of them to meet with the Hokage, Inoichi, and _oh fuck_ Mizuki.

Iruka’s brain opened the floodgates as he and Kakashi ran across rooftops towards the Hokage’s office. _They Know._ There’s no way they could know. _They absolutely know._ No one had seen them that night and Iruka hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. _Mizuki told everyone about it._ Maybe it’s about a student. Maybe Sasuke- _Mizuki told everyone and they’re all going to find out about the little chūnin that couldn’t._ No. _Kakashi is going to find out._ **No.** _He’s going to know how weak you are, how weak you’ve been this whole time. How you couldn’t defend yourself-_ **“NO.”**

Kakashi stopped on a dime as soon as the word dropped out of Iruka’s mouth, kunai immediately in hand, looking to see what caused his companion’s outburst.

“Never mind. It’s nothing. Sorry.” Iruka kept running past him. By the time they reached the Hokage’s office, panicked tears were forming in his eyes and a deep, dull headache was beginning to form at the base of his skull.

Iruka ducked into the building first, shielding his face so that Kakashi wouldn’t see him wiping away tears.


	7. Takes One To Know One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A budding friendship is proverbially weed whacked by all parties involved before it can bloom.
> 
> And Mizuki can still eat a butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries into my bowl of fruity pebbles ice cream as I write* I DID THIS TO ME.
> 
> this is not a happy chapter, friends.
> 
> i'm so so so so so so so so sorry. i just. I'm sorry okay? please don't hate me.
> 
> TW: There is one(1) gay slur used in this chapter. I don't anticipate ever writing another slur in the course of this story, so I'm not going to tag the entire fic as slur/homophobia, but if it does come up again, I will tag the entire piece.

The small office was already crowded when Iruka and Kakashi stepped inside. Hiruzen was seated at his desk, flanked on all sides by Councilors Mitokado, Utatane, and Danzō. Inoichi and one of the Mission Desk recorders were set up behind a smaller table to the left of the Hokage’s desk that had apparently been set out just for the occasion.

Three empty chairs had been placed in the center of the room.

Oh god.

This was a private hearing.

But-- A private hearing could be about anything, right? It could be about the school’s budget for next year or about a report from a high stakes mission or it could be about next year’s Chūnin exams.  _ Keep it together. You can do this. _ Iruka let out a shaking breath and sat in the chair furthest to the right. 

_ Think about this rationally. _ There’s no way Mizuki would tell people, right? Because then it would get around to Tsubaki and ruin his relationship with her. And even if he  _ did  _ tell someone, there would be no reason to bring in Kakashi or Inoichi, right? They’d bring in someone from the police force. Who was the head of the force now? Fūma? That seemed right. If this was really about the incident, then Captain Fūma should be sitting next to the Missions Desk Recorder, not Inoichi.  _ See? No reason to panic. _ He still wasn’t looking forward to being in the same room as Mizuku, much less sit next to him.

_ Maybe Kakashi would come over and… never mind.  _ Iruka watched as Kakashi positioned himself at the back of the room, produced a battered copy of Icha Icha from a vest pocket, and seemed to settle into ignoring everything happening around him. A hearing like this was probably no big deal to the copy-nin. Just another day at the office.

Inoichi and Danzō seemed similarly unimpressed. Hiruzen wasn’t even looking up at the people sitting silently in his office. He just kept shuffling through scrolls, stamping them or marking them with a pen as he went. The only person who seemed anything other than bored was the Recorder.

Iruka caught the Recorder’s eye and lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, “What’s going on?”

The Recorder squinted an “I have no idea, but I’d like them to hurry it up” back at him.

A few more minutes ticked by, the room deadly silent except for the scratch of Hiruzen’s pen or the turn of an Icha Icha page.

Iruka nearly jumped out of his skin when the door swung open so that Mizuki could slouch his way inside. The man sneered when he saw the gathered assembly. “Well, aren’t you a lively bunch.”

“I’m glad you were able to join us, Mizuki,” Hiruzen said, finally putting down his pen. “Now that we’re all assembled, I suppose we can begin.” The Hokage took a moment to clear his throat. “I apologize for not disclosing the reason for this hearing. The issue at hand is one of a sensitive nature. This is not the ordinary procedure to deal with accusations like these, but for reasons of my own, I have decided to apply a higher standard of discretion and deliberation.”

_ Accusations like these _ .

Iruka’s skin ran cold.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“It is understood that no matter the outcome of this hearing, everything that takes place in this room is to be confidential.” Hiruzen nodded to the Recorder, who was busily taking a shorthand account of the proceedings. “Immediately following this hearing, all information associated is to be compiled into an S Rank file and sealed, is that understood?”

The Recorder nodded in acknowledgement.

“Mizuki,” Hiruzen continued, “you are here because an accusation of sexual assault has been laid against you.”

Iruka watched as Mizuki leaned back in his chair and glared at him, sizing him up a snake might asses a potential victim.He let out a little scoff.  “Unbelievable.” His eyes narrowed, hate still shining through. “You are really, truly unbelievable, Iruka. You know that?”

Iruka was certain his heart had stopped beating entirely. “I- I didn’t. It wasn’t-” he tried to speak up but he couldn’t get any air into his lungs.

“Jesus you are fucking unbelievable.” Mizuki’s teeth were all but bared. “I say I won’t play your little fucking fairy games with you anymore so you accuse me of something like this? Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Tsubaki? Trying to take away my career? Why the fuck would you do this?”

“MIZUKI THAT IS ENOUGH,” Hiruzen slammed his fist on his desk, sending a few scrolls clattering to the floor. “From now on, you will address me alone and no one else or I will have you placed in prison immediately and we will carry out the rest of this hearing without you. Now then,” Hiruzen smoothed out his robes and sat back in his chair. “Inoichi, would you please produce the initial statement of accusation that you received regarding this incident?”

Inoichi unfurled a scroll and began to read.

Iruka was numb. The words rolled over him like static from a radio. It felt like every organ and bone and piece of sinew in his body was turning itself inward. Disintegrating and collapsing. Was this how stars felt before becoming a black hole? He wanted to teach the kids a lesson on Astronomy at the end of the school year. Something fun. Something they could do outside of the classroom on their break that didn’t involve attacking each other or possibly maiming themselves. He wanted to teach them that the light from the North Star was hundreds of years old. To tell them that it was like the Will of Fire, being passed on through time and space over many generations and miles to help guide them. He wanted to-

“Iruka,” a quiet voice appeared behind him. Kakashi’s hand was on his shoulder. “Iruka, you need to breathe.”

Iruka felt his lungs respond immediately to the order, his lips parting to pull more air into his chest. Everyone in the room was staring at him, except for Mizuki, whose vision was locked straight ahead.

“Are you alright?” Kakashi was kneeling next to him.

Iruka nodded.

“Inoichi, please continue.” Hiruzen waved him on.

“Thank you, Sandaime,” Inoichi lifted the scroll up once more. He was almost to the end. “When Mizuki finished, he pushed himself away from Iruka and left the alleyway. After a few minutes, Iruka collected himself and left.” Inoichi quietly rolled the scroll closed.

“Thank you, Inoichi. Could you please state for the record who took this account?”

“I did, Sandaime.”

“Thank you. And could you please state for the record who reported this incident to you?”

“This incident was reported to me by Kakashi Hatake.”

The words cut through Iruka like a blade on fire, tearing through his stomach and cauterizing the wound all at once.

He was going to be sick.

No, he was going to set the Hatake compound on fire with Kakashi inside of it and then he was going to be sick.

Vomit, then fire, then maybe more vomit, then bringing Kakashi back from the dead so he could seal him inside of a barrier and then set the barrier on fire while-

“Iruka?”

The Hokage had asked him a question. Iruka just blinked back at him.

“Iruka, can you corroborate this account?”

He felt something ignite in the pit of his stomach.

_ Fight or flight? _

“I apologize, Sandaime. Could you please repeat the question?”

_ Fight or flight, Umino. What’s it gonna be? _

“Can you corroborate any of the details from Kakashi Hatake’s account?”

_ Time to make a decision. This either gets way bigger or it goes away completely, but you have to decide right  _ **_now_ ** _. _

“I--” Iruka faltered. The prick of everyone’s gaze was making his skin crawl. Kakashi’s hand, still on his shoulder, felt like a hot lead weight pressing down into his frame. He shut his eyes and swallowed down a sob. He was a shinobi, damn it, and he would fucking act like it. No more hyperventilating. No more feeling like he was going to pass out. He was going to stow his emotional crap until he could unpack it in private and not in front of the Hokage and Kakashi and certainly  _ not  _ in front of Mizuki.

Iruka cleared his throat and began again.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember. I’d had a lot to drink and everything about that evening was fuzzy.” He felt Kakashi’s hand drop from his shoulder. He expected the release of the weight to be a relief, but his stomach just dropped with it.

The Hokage’s face was a mask of judicial indifference, but something behind his eyes had changed. Hardened. “That is most concerning to me, Iruka. However, I need you to try your hardest to think. Do you remember, at all, even once, telling Mizuki to stop his actions?”

Iruka felt tears fighting their way to the surface, the back of his throat burning and itching with the strain of holding his impending emotional tsunami at bay.

The words that he’d been viciously ignoring for weeks now surged to top volume in his head:

**_YOU DIDN’T SAY YES, UMINO. TELL THEM. IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU DIDN’T SAY, “NO.”_ **

**_YOU DIDN’T SAY “YES.”_ **

His mouth went dry as he spoke, air filling his throat and lungs like sandpaper. “No, Sandaime. I did not tell Mizuki to stop his actions at any time.”

The Hokage folded his hands across his desk. “Then it would seem we have nothing further to discuss.”

\---------------

It’d been a long time since Kakashi had experienced anger.

You learned to tuck it away in ANBU.

He must well and truly be going soft now though, because his blood had been replaced by boiling acid.

\------------

As everyone stood and began to gather their things, Iruka sat, silently mapping out the fastest way to the Hatake compound, counting the number of paper bombs he had on his person.

If Kakashi thought he had the right to decimate Iruka’s life like this, then Iruka was going fucking  _ level  _ his house.

\-----------

What kind of  _ coward _ doesn’t name their attacker? Doesn’t seek  _ justice  _ when the opportunity is laid out like a red fucking carpet?

Kakashi’s fingers were tracing the tops of his most easily accessible kunai.

\-----------

The paper bombs probably wouldn’t be enough to level the place. 

Iruka should just slap them directly onto that asshole’s jōnin vest as soon as they left the building.

\-------------

He’d made Kakashi out to be a liar.

\------------

He’d made Iruka out to be weak.

\-----------

Someone was going to pay for this.

Preferably with a pound of flesh.

\-----------

The Hokage’s office was empty, save for Iruka and Kakashi, both stock still in the same positions they’d been in throughout the hearing:

Iruka sitting in the center of the room; Kakashi leaning against the wall behind him.

Through the windows that overlooked the village, they could see that the sun was beginning to set, the dimming outdoor light throwing their own reflections against the glass.

The men locked eyes with each other in the reflection, their stark forms ghostly against the violently orange and purple sky.

Iruka moved first, diving from his chair over the top of the Hokage’s desk, landing with his back to the window, one hand moving towards his pocket full of explosive tags, the other grasping for a fistful of makibishi to scatter in the space between him and Kakashi.

A flash passed between them and suddenly Kakashi was on him, both of Iruka’s wrists caught in one hand and pinned against the window over his head. “You’re a coward,” the silver haired nin’s voice was low and jagged with rage, “and a liar.”

Iruka shifted his weight under Kakashi’s grasp. “Takes one to know one,” he snarled as he leveraged Kakashi’s hold on him and swung his legs between their bodies, kicking forward and sending the other man backwards into the desk.

Kakashi pulled Iruka along with him, sending them both tumbling across the furniture and slamming their bodies down onto the floor, pinning Iruka under his weight once more.

The chūnin’s face went still, his tan skin flush, all of his anger simmering just below the surface. “I trusted you.” His voice was soft. “I thought--”

Kakashi could feel Iruka’s limbs go limp under his grasp as a deep, awful sob escaped the man’s chest. He watched as wide brown eyes flooded with tears.

“I’m so stupid,” Iruka whispered. “I should have known better than to trust the Friend Killer.”

The words flayed Kakashi's skin from his bones.

Kakashi pushed himself off of Iruka and stood, sneering down at the man crying on the floor. “Don’t beat yourself up, Sensei. You seem to have no problem letting Mizuki kick you around like his dog. Hanging around the  _ Friend Killer _ was probably a dream come true compared to him.”

But Iruka wasn’t listening.

The man was staring blankly at the ceiling, tears still streaming down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though things are pretty shitty right now, I swear on my life that this story will have a happy ending.
> 
> It just might take a while to get there.


	8. Mission Desk Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't Fuck With The Mission Desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> First:
> 
> HOLY BANANAS YOU'RE ALL EXTREMELY NICE WHAT THE FUCK THESE COMMENTS ARE LITERALLY MAKING ME CRY HELP.
> 
> Second:
> 
> I hope this chapter is a little less painful than the last one.
> 
> Third:
> 
> I'll probably post another chapter tomorrow because I've gotten over my "oh god what the fuck did I do to my sweet precious babies" slump.
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> As always, this is unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own, etc etc.
> 
> Shout out to @copyninjaofkonoha on tumblr for coming to my aid when I needed a name or two. You're a wonderful human.

Working the mission desk required a very specific personality type.

A mission desk nin should be the kind of person who will memorize every rule, but can also intuit when to break them. They know that a writing report is difficult by design because the work of a nin is hard and violent and deals in ethical grey areas, but that sometimes a messy report should be accepted anyway because it’s been a bloody year and this particular job was a simple fence repair on a local farm. They understand that every genin should be required to undertake the task of catching Tora, Madam Shijimi’s cat at least once before they move up to A and B rank missions because it is a kinder way to learn about futility in the line of duty. They’re the kind of person who would never let a nin leave without wishing them a cheerful “Go and come back!” because they know that not everyone will.

It was immediately obvious to every single person working the desk that something was Wrong™ when Iruka Umino told Kakashi fucking Hatake to “Just Go.” and **_he did._**

Gossip immediately began to scuttle around the office and quickly spread out like wildfire. Hadn’t Iruka just been attached at the hip to one of Kakashi’s ninken? And Kakashi, who had, seemingly out of nowhere, become a ramen shop fiend last month, just as suddenly wouldn’t be caught dead within 500 yards of the place. Kurenai swore up and down that she’d seen Kakashi on the roof of Iruka’s apartment and Anko insisted that there’d been eggplant miso leftovers in Iruka’s fridge when she’d swung by two weeks ago.

In the end, Asuma drew the short straw and was selected to approach Iruka about it. It took him a few days of haunting the desk room, being overly helpful and volunteering to file reports, claiming to be waiting for someone, chain smoking just outside the building, before there was an evening quiet enough to broach the subject.

Iruka had sent everyone else on the desk home for the night. It was the middle of the week, so one was expected back that day and all of the urgent jobs had been assigned. It was the perfect time to give everyone a little break and to catch up on some filing.

Asuma perched himself on a couch, absently tapping his carton of cigarettes against his thigh, watching the afternoon pass through the window.

“Go home, Asuma.” Iruka was buried neck deep in a stack of forms.

“And leave you here all by your lonesome? Nah. Besides, this is the quietest place in the village right now. Perfect for watching the world pass by.”

Iruka snorted. “You sound like one of my students.”

“Which one?”

“Shikaku’s kid. He’s a smart cookie but he refuses to apply himself. Says he doesn’t see the point of writing papers when he knows he already knows the information. Spends all his time staring out the window.”

“Eh, maybe the brat’s on to something.”

“Hm.” Iruka shuffled a few papers into a tray labeled “To File.”

Asuma cleared his throat, “You know, Iruka, you aren’t the first person to be run through the Hatake Mill.”

Iruka’s head snapped up, face flushed. “What are you talking about?”

“He dumped you, right?”

“Who?”

“Kakashi.”

“What?” Iruka’s face was rapidly approaching a beet color.

“You guys did an okay job of keeping everything under the radar, but… I mean… You spent literally every waking minute with Pakkun for almost a month and now you suddenly won’t look the man in the eye. And, to be honest, based on some of the shit I’ve seen him pull in the past, my bet is that you didn’t do anything wrong. The guy’s predispositioned to being a little insensi-”

“ _Hatake did not dump me._ ” In that moment Iruka’s face could have been carved into Hokage Rock. “He and I never were, are not now, and never will be romantically involved. I borrowed Pakkun because he was helpful in teaching my students about caring for a summons and that was it. His master and I are barely even friends.”

“Ah.” Asuma tapped a cigarette out into his hand. “I apologize for presuming. You know how the gossip around here can be and a few of us were worried.”

Iruka let himself take a deep breath. “Thank you for your concern. I apologize for snapping. I appreciate the concern, but things have been a bit difficult for me lately and I would appreciate it if my private life could remain private. If you wouldn't mind helping diffuse that particular rumor the next time you hear it, I would be in your debt.”

“Of course, Sensei. But if you need to talk about anything, let me know, okay? There are a lot of us who care about you.”

Iruka dropped his eye contact, nodded, and ducked his head back into the pile of papers in front of him.

\------------------

The end of the week always meant an influx of people returning and dropping off reports, so a packed Friday afternoon was pretty much normal for the mission desk. Guy and Yamato had just returned from escorting a merchant across a few town borders. Anko was there filling out a report about some stolen livestock she’d recovered. Kurenai was finishing up filing some paperwork about an animal that had been trapped on the outskirts of town.

And all of them suddenly became a lot more interested in quickly finishing up their paperwork as soon as Kakashi walked in.

His most recent assignment hadn’t been a tough job; delivering a bit of sensitive info out to Hidden Cloud and back. In theory, dropping off a mission report for a job of that nature would be simple, though Kakashi was known for being… creative with his reports, something that most of the desk workers had learned to just accept and move on. It usually wasn’t worth the fight to try to get Kakashi to fill out the report correctly unless the mission was something of national importance and delivering a diplomatic note was definitely not that.

Still, given how he’d been sent off, no one in the office was particularly surprised when Iruka unscrolled the report, glanced it over, and handed it back, with a curt, “Do it again, Hatake.” Given how tetchy Iruka had been lately, it might have been more worrisome if he’d just accepted it. Too much of a mood swing into the opposite, non-cranky direction.

No, the thing that sent up every red flag in the room, was that Kakashi took the scroll back, sat on the other side of the room and _started to correct it…?_

A few minutes later and the masked nin was back at the desk, handing over the scroll.

Iruka opened it, said, “We don’t accept red pen,” and handed it back.

Kakashi smiled sweetly, offered up a quick “My mistake, Sensei!” and went back over with a blank form to try again.

This continued for an hour.

“What the fuck is going on?” Yamato muttered to Guy, eyes full of fear, as they watched their friend hand in report after report, each one less correct than the last.

The men were playing Mission Desk Chicken.

By the time Kakashi handed in a report entirely written in pictograms, everyone in the room was fairly sure this was going to end in blood.

“My youthful rival appears to be locked in a battle of wills!” Guy’s eyebrows were raised so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“My money is on Iruka,” Yamato breathed.

“You’re on.” The men shook on it without ever taking their eyes off of the escalating incident that was unfolding before them.

The report written in fresh paint was the one that finally pulled the pin on the grenade. Kakashi tossed a scroll that looked like it had been dipped whole into a bucket of forest green acrylic, the wet, sloppy substance oozing out across the desk, ruining a number of other reports that had already been handed in.

Iruka was apoplectic.

“What is it about our report requirements that eludes you?” the smaller man seethed through clenched teeth.

Kakashi was positively unfazed. “Absolutely nothing.”

Iruka lifted the dripping green scroll off of his desk. “You workmanship seems to indicate otherwise.”

“Maa, Sensei, it’s fine,” Kakashi waved Iruka’s words a way with a lazy swat. “It’s not like you’ll rat me out to anyone. You seem to be pretty comfortable with letting people off the hook these days.”

Iruka lunged for his throat.

In the chaos of it all, no one was sure if Kakashi or Iruka was the first one to draw the other man’s blood, but by the time Yamato and Guy intervened to pull them apart, they both had a few new gashes and the walls and furniture had been more than a little gouged out by the various weapons that were thrown.

“You take Kakashi,” Guy shouted to Yamato over the din of insults still being flung by the two men. “I’ll get Iruka out of here.”

And this was how Iruka found himself in a fireman’s hold, nose to cheek with a green spandex covered butt, being dragged out to the nearest training field.


	9. Into The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka discovers the therapeutic power of the pile driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> This chapter ended up being a weird one to write. Guy is not my go-to and his voice is so distinctive that figuring it out took a ton of trial and error. And, honestly, this is not as long as I wanted it to be. That's okay though. The important thing is that the chapter is up.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to AnbuKakashiHatake, who deserves shasta daisies, bubble baths, longer chapters from her loser writer friends, and a goddamn day off.

Iruka was not pleased with the view as he involuntarily bounced his way across the village. _What was this jumpsuit even made out of?_

Fortunately, the trip was quick, and he soon found himself being chucked flat on to the green of one of the upper fields.

Guy loomed over him, face serious as a heart attack. Iruka would have been terrified if the man’s severe stare hadn’t been accompanied by his ridiculous outfit and haircut.

“Get on your feet, Sensei! You and I are going to engage in a most glorious sparring match!”

Iruka pressed his lips into a line. “Why?”

“Because I wish for you to be a better combatant against my Most Youthful Rival, Kakashi Hatake” The man’s voice boomed across the field like he was yelling through a megaphone. “Please! Fight me!”

 _What the hell..._ Iruka thought. _May as well give it a go…_ He pushed himself up off the ground, brushing some of the dirt from his uniform. He rolled his shoulders back a bit, trying to loosen up, and then squared off in front of Konoha’s Green Monster.

He watched as Guy widened his stance, just a hair, weight evenly distributed. Everything about the man seemed... rooted.

But as Iruka lunged forward with his first blow, it became immediately apparent that the weight to his stance was all illusion. Guy dodged and blocked easily, letting Iruka’s fist cuff off his elbow. There was no energy wasted in the decision. He simply blocked and returned to his default position in a single fluid motion.

He tried striking low next, but was met with the same effortless and decisive dodge/block.

A sweeping kick, a right hook, and whiffed body check sent Iruka fumbling and bouncing through the match. It seemed as if every ounce of energy Iruka put into his blows was counterbalanced by the total, precise conservation of Guy’s movements.

The men circled each other. Iruka felt himself losing ground to the large man though the distance between them hadn’t changed.

“Make the decision to strike me, Iruka-Sensei!!”

“I don’t know how!!”

“Your position is filled with advantages!! You are a hip educator who is surrounded by the bountiful energy of youth!”

Iruka felt something furious bubble up inside him. “What- WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?” His feet were charging towards Guy before he even realized what he was doing. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOUR METAPHORS, YOU ABSOLUTE WEIRDO.” He faked high and hit Guy low with the full force of his body. “BOUNTIFUL ENERGY OF YOUTH?” Iruka shouted as he pulled the larger man to the ground. “HIP AND COOL??” He kept his momentum going, flipping himself over the prone man’s head, hoisting him onto his shoulder with a furious grunt. “AND WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK-” he drove Guy down into the ground shoulder first with the full force of his rage “-IS WITH THE WEIRD GREEN JUMPSUIT?”

Iruka felt his body begin to tip itself onto his opponent, a primal scream of anger he hadn’t known he’d been holding in rip itself from his lungs as he drove his elbow, with all of his weight behind it, directly into Guy’s solar plexus.

\------------------------------------

Kakashi had been in one of Yamato’s wood traps exactly three times in his life.

And they’d all been voluntary.

“Maa, you know I can break out of this twig trap any time I choose.”

Kakashi was sulking.

Yamato curled two fingers, causing a small shoot to spring out of the wood and whap Kakashi in the face. “Keep whining, Senpai.”

Yamato had Kakashi wrapped up in a network of branches and strapped to his back like the world’s largest, crankiest toddler who was in need of the world’s longest nap, and was carrying him out towards the woods.

Kakashi already knew where they were going. There was a small grove by a creek a few clicks outside the village gate where they’d go after especially terrible missions. Sometimes they’d talk. Sometimes they’d spar. Usually, they’d just sit, content to be present with someone else who understood what the other had seen and didn’t need it explained to them.

The grove was a sob story free zone.

When they arrived, Yamato unceremoniously dumped Kakashi out of his trap into the center of the grove.

“We’re going to stay here until you tell me why the FUCK a school teacher wants your head on a plate. What the hell did you do, Hatake?” Yamato shook his head as he spoke and wandered over to the creek, kicking his sandals off, and wading in just enough for the hem of his pants to get a little wet.

Kakashi rolled up and sat cross legged from where he’d been dropped on his head. “Isn’t the more interesting answer why I want a school teacher dead?”

Yamato snorted. “You actively look for reasons to keep people at arm’s length. I do not care one ounce about why you want to drive away Iruka-Sensei. What I care about is what you did to make one of the most beloved members of our community lose his goddamn mind.”

“Pft,” Kakashi screwed up his face. “Has everyone forgotten so quickly??”

“Forgotten what?”

“The terror that was Teenage Iruka Umino. If everyone remembered the havoc he caused, more people would be thanking me for keeping him on his toes.”

Yamato just stared at him.

"He stole my anbu mask once, you know. And he regularly vandalized Hokage Rock. There's a reason he's a favorite of Ryu's..."

“...Oh, I get it!" Yamato smiled, "You’ve lost your mind. You let your chakra deplete one too many times and now your brain is draining its intelligence to make up for the loss.”

Kakashi flicked a pebble at Yamato, who dodged the projectile and watched as it plopped into the water.

“Well?”

“Ugh. Fine,” Kakashi dusted himself off and waded in alongside his friend, going in a few steps deeper, drowning the bottoms of his pants in the quickly moving water. “I witnessed Mizuki assault Iruka after a long, drunken night out at the bar.”

“Assault?”

Kakashi raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Assault.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I stopped by to check in on Iruka and he seemed fine, for the most part, but he didn’t mention it to me and he seemed… to not be acknowledging that a crime had been committed.” Kakashi watched as his friend suddenly went very still and shut his eyes.

“...You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

Kakashi’s face became a mask, all innocence and good intent.

“YOU DID.” Yamato’s glare cut through Kakashi like a switch through flesh. “Damn it, Kakashi. No wonder the man wants to murder you and decorate the mission desk with your innards.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Tenzo! He-”

“You’re right, you complete lowland gorilla of a man. You **_didn’t_ ** have a choice because **_the choice was not yours to make_ **.”

“What?? And let an abuser run wild??”

 **“He’s not your abuser.”** Yamato had dropped into a fighting stance.

Kakashi threw his hands up into a submissive position. “Okay, okay. I hear you. But-”

“No.” Yamato’s hands were fists now, shaking slightly. “No buts. After everything you saw me go through-”

“I didn’t have to worry about you going through it,” Kakashi snapped. “You are strong enough to pull me out of the trenches. I knew you were strong enough to pull yourself through that. Iruka is-” he trailed off, brow furrowing. “He’s just a school teacher.”

Yamato snapped his mouth shut. “Just a school teacher-? You regularly fail genin to get out of having to deal with them! He volunteers for the job! _Just a school teacher_. You've lost your damn mind, Hatake."

“You said that already.” Kakashi sat down on the bank, resting his arms on his knees, palms splayed outwards. “So, are we going to keep talking in circles or can we sit on the bank and count ripples?”

\------------

Iruka landed square on Guy’s chest with a solid “OOOPH,” and quickly found himself ensnared in beefy green arms.

But instead of being flipped or tossed or otherwise manhandled, he was just… hugged.

And Guy was… crying?

“OH IRUKA-SENSEI! THE YOUTHFUL PASSION THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU! I AM SO HONORED YOU ALLOWED ME TO SEE IT SPRING FORTH FROM YOUR FISTS!!”

“Uh… you’re welcome?”

Guy sat up, Iruka still clutched to his massive frame like a yeti might clutch a stuffed animal, sobbing.

“Can… can you set me down now?”

“Of course, my most glorious opponent!”

“Thank you.” Iruka settled into the grass beside Guy, who was still snuffling a little. “You really take that passionate springtime of youth thing seriously…”

Guy nodded. “Many people view my life’s philosophy as frivolity, Sensei but-” he faltered. “I have found that my strength stems from my ability to act! I cannot wait for the springtime of my youth to fade! I must decide quickly how to respond and then move on from that decision! I cannot dwell! If I dwell, I will be caught by the fist of my most glorious opponent!”

“I think I know what you mean. About making a decision and accepting it wholesale and learning to move on after it’s been made.”

“I cannot control how my opponent attacks me. I can only control how I defend and respond!”

Something in Iruka’s heart clicked into place. “If- if you were attacked,” the words formed slowly in his mouth, “hypothetically speaking, by a comrade. Or a friend… how would you defend and respond?”

“Hmmmmm…. A most interesting proposition, my hip friend! I suppose it depends on the circumstances of our quarrel.”

The sky above the two men was quiet, an easy breeze rolling across the sunlit sparring arena.

Iruka felt himself inhale, exhale, and let the whole story come tumbling out into the light.


End file.
